Another solidly gripping film from the ever-prolific Soderbergh, this is a terrific two-hander, with Coel and McKellen on fine, fierce form.

A high-energy doc that does a tidy job of spanning 50 action-packed years. We suggest you don’t run to the hills but your nearest cinema instead.

An occasionally interesting but over-stretched attempt to recount Putin’s rise to power, best appreciated for the few moments in which Jude Law appears.

The creatively gory fighting and amusing — if shallow — characters just about compensate for the paper-thin story. But at its best, it’s a lot of dumb fun. 

Hokum isn’t just hokum. On top of an affecting personal quest for a non-despairing ending, it delivers a full evening of scares, chills, wicked jokes and haunted escape-room hijinks.

A sequel that serves its characters with a fresh story instead of relying solely on the tropes of its predecessor. This high-fashion tale could have benefited from higher stakes, but Streep and company remain as in vogue as ever.

It is a committed ensemble that sells this flock’s love for their shepherd, and while the tale often treads on familiar ground, it is in the bond between these animals and their owner that the film finds its woolly heart.

Just a solidly made cat-and-mouse thriller, with muscularly committed performances from its two leads. It’ll make you want to explore the Great Outdoors and simultaneously never leave your house again.

Cox evidently harbours a profound love for his homeland, and it’s nice to see Alan Cumming and Shirley Henderson speaking in their native Scottish accents for a change. But while it may inspire you to book a Highland holiday, there’s little else to take away from such a soppy passion project.

A defiantly avant-garde take on commercial chart-toppers. It’s not for everyone, but it deserves to be: a gorgeous fusion of film, fashion, faith, and certified bangers.

Mark Jenkin is still Mark Jenk-ing: the most stubbornly analogue filmmaker out there has produced another satisfyingly baffling film about Cornish communities and the supernatural tension between past and present.

Hugely impressive musical and dance performances from the two young men playing Michael Jackson cannot shake off the uncomfortable fact that there is an entire other side to the pop star’s story which is entirely conspicuous by its absence here.

A daring reimagining of an oft-told story, Kiss Of The Spider Woman features some sensational musical moments that nicely hark back to classic Hollywood, but struggles to reconcile two very different worlds.

More shallow than The Shallows, and lacking the depth of even Deep Blue Sea, this has chuckle-worthy moments but will be forgotten roughly 47 metres down in the lower-echelons of shark cinema.

Parts of Outcome work a treat (see: Martin Scorsese). Shame, then, that long stretches give in to blunt parody, leaving the feeling there’s a much better movie in here somewhere.

Domestic chills, body horror, paranormal scares and gore-drenched action combine in a very distinct but rather uneven — and at times contentious — take on a classic monster icon.

The cinematic equivalent of being teabagged without your consent.

Closer to the gentle humanism of Paterson than Jarmusch’s cooler, ironic output, Father Mother Sister Brother is a small-scale and singular treat.

Charming performances from Bailey and Page can’t make up for the crushing levels of cringe. More an underwhelming pasta ready-meal than a fine-dining experience.

A cautionary tale against the dangers of excessive podcasting, this is a supremely spooky sonic ordeal. As an allegory for Catholic guilt, it’s haunting; as an auditory experience, it’ll fuck you up.

It’s thinner than the paper it’s written on, and full of questionable choices — but in a switch-your-brain-off kind of way, this will adequately activate your heist glands. Light the fuze!

The moments of fan service might keep the hardcore happy, but for everyone else over the age of five it’s just a succession of loud, bright things happening without any real point.

A dark and darkly funny dissection of a couple’s ‘perfect’ relationship, examining how internal forces and exterior pressures can drive two people to their breaking point.

Blood-drenched and gore-splattered, anchored by a hard-as-nails performance by Beetz, this is a thinly plotted but immensely fun horrorfest. Best watched with a strong stomach.

A bitter howl at the injustice of the modern world, intellectualised through one of literature’s shrewdest figures. Powerful and eye-opening, but Orwell himself might have preferred a less partisan approach.

The kind of good old-fashioned adult comedy we don’t see enough — delivering a confident commentary on the mess of modern sex and relationships. Unpredictable, unromantic and, most importantly, unbelievably funny.

It’s nonsense — but at the very least, well-meaning nonsense.

Its magical denizens too often look and feel like out-of-season pantomime characters, but there’s just enough heart and humour to make this enchanting.